


Share your silence (unpack your heart)

by looneytails (mixthealphabet)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friendship, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixthealphabet/pseuds/looneytails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia says that they are too similar sometimes, in their stubbornness and in their protectiveness over others, and she thinks that’s why they don’t always get along.<br/>Bellamy thinks Octavia needs to shut up.</p><p>[Or a study on how the best things in life don't come easy.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Share your silence (unpack your heart)

It starts with a scoff, a breath of air through smirking lips, and then it-was-war.

She walks into his coffee shop at ten in the morning, dressed in jeans and a sweater, like all the other university students from the area. She looks beautiful, but, in Bellamy’s opinion, so do most of the girls that come in, so he glances at her, then goes back to work.

Octavia is at the cashier. He can be charming, but his sister’s fierceness seems to translate better with the customers. She leans over the cash register and doesn’t even flinch when he starts yelling, chewing Monty and Jasper out for setting fire to yet another batch of muffins.

“I’m done with you two fucking idiots. I’m giving Miller free rein. He can whip you, for all I care,” he growls, throwing his shoulders back to emphasize his broadness over the duo. “Hell, you burn another damn muffin and I’ll do it myself. Are we clear?”

Jasper nods frantically, but Monty continues to stare at his shoes, red splashes of color across his cheeks and neck.

And that’s when he hears it, the scoff. It’s derisive and soft and exactly the right thing to _ruin his fucking morning_.

Bellamy looks over his shoulder at the blonde. She is staring back, challenging blue eyes and all that, and her beauty is just another thing that makes this day completely unfair.

“Do you have something to say,” he lifts an eyebrow at her, “ _princess_?”

She narrows her eyes at the nickname and he can’t help but think that she looks mighty dangerous for someone of her size.

“I do, actually.” She closes her hands over the strap of her bag, like she’s trying to stop herself from hitting him. “I just can’t believe how much of an ass you are with your employees. Nothing excuses that kind of behavior.”

Bellamy sees Octavia grimace behind the blonde. She knows that he is in a bad mood, because his truck broke down and a guy on the bus tried to harass some high schoolers and they just wasted so much floor that he will have to buy more with Anya, which is always a _delight_.

But the blonde girl doesn’t know that.

“Are you trying to teach me how to run my business?” he asks, turning to look at her.

“If this is how you run this place, then I’m surprised anyone still works here!” She bites back. The iciness of her eyes makes something burn inside him.

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want.” He moves closer to the counter, towering over her. “You know nothing about what goes on here, so, if I were you, I would take my privileged a—”

“Caramel latte for Clarke!” Octavia pushes him out of the way, handing the stranger her cup. “And here’s a banana muffin. Don’t give us a bad review on Yelp!”

Although her tone seems sweet, her grin is almost feral, and Bellamy finds himself fighting off a smile. He taught her well.

The blonde — Clarke — takes the coffee with careful hands, intelligent eyes shifting between him and his sister. Despite the irritation in the twist of her lips, there’s something akin to amusement in the way she looks at them.

“Thank you,” she says finally. “I guess I’ll see you Tuesday, Monty!” She calls over their heads, trying to look into the kitchen.

She’s a foot out the door when Octavia smacks him over the head.

“Seriously, Bell?” she chastises. “You’re going to start fights with the clients, now? I’ll set Miller on you!”

From the window that connects them to the kitchen, Monty and Jasper chuckle.

“I think we have to stop with the Miller thing. The customers are starting to think it’s for real.” Jasper adjusts the goggles around his neck. “I know the guy looks like he hates the world, but he is almost as much of a softy as Bellamy.”

As a response, he receives a burned muffin to the forehead.

“You use up half my flour with another ruined batch and I’ll show you the softy!”

Monty snorts at the two, but Octavia continues to look apathetic.

“You have to be calmer about this,” she says to him, shaking her head. She lowers her voice, with that inflection that always makes Bellamy feel bad about himself. “That girl had vengeance in her eyes.”

“O, calm down,” Monty interjects, “it’s just Clarke.”

Octavia ignores their friend, rolling her eyes and moving back to the cashier.

“I know what I saw,” she talks through the smile that she sends the people who walk by the shop’s window. “And I saw that the girl, Clarke, she is the real deal.”

Bellamy scowls at his sister, but Monty beams.

“I’m glad you liked her, cause she’ll be coming to Movie Night this Friday.”

 

* * *

 

Bellamy is looking through the new showing of Greek art at the local museum when he bumps into Clarke once again.

It’s been less than two days since they last saw each other, because Movie Night is sacred and there is no way that either of them is going to miss it, even if it means spending the whole night glaring and fighting.

The medium of days that he goes without meeting Clarke ranges between four to an entire week, depending on her caffeine intake and Octavia’s shifts, so Bellamy is more than a little surprised when he looks down to find a familiar mane of blonde curls.

“Ugh,” she moans, holding her head, and he knows that she has already recognized him.

“Sorry, princess,” he says in a deadpan. “I forgot for a minute that royalty doesn’t have to look where it’s going.”

Clarke lifts her eyes to his, but there’re no irritation in there, just tiredness.

“I don’t need this today, Bellamy,” she breathes out in lieu of an answer.

Her unresponsiveness gives Bellamy pause. They don’t like each other, but in the month he’s known her, this has never been a one player game. She gives as good as she gets, which is why he doesn’t usually feel this guilty about his aggressiveness.

However, like he said, she looks tired. There are dark circles under her eyes that only seem emphasized by the paleness of her complexion and she wavers on her feet. The big brother inside him shakes with worry, so Bellamy puts a hand on Clarke’s shoulder to stabilize her.

“Are you alright?” he asks, trying to curb his apprehension.

She gives him a humorless smile.

“I haven’t slept in 24 hours and I won’t be able to sleep for at least another 12.” She shrugs off his touch. “But that is none of your business, so don’t pretend to care.”

Clarke turns her back on him, walking towards another section of the showing, and Bellamy hurries to accompany her.

“I don’t pretend to do anything,” he counters, flashing her his most arrogant grin. “Only whatever the hell I want, remember?”

She actually snickers at this, her face twisting like she is trying very hard not to smile.

“You never apologized for that, you know?” she declares as they shift closer to one of the sculptures.

Bellamy scoffs.

“Why would I apologize? You’re the one who had no idea what was happening and still tried to butt in.”

Clarke bristles, and it makes him feel strangely proud to see that spark going back to her eyes.

“Monty is one the sweetest guys I know and you were threatening him!”

“I was lecturing them!” he responds, frowning. “They had set fire to the kitchen!”

“I—” Clarke starts, before hesitating. Her lips quirk into a strange smile. “I didn’t know that.”

They fall into laughter while they move through the exhibition.

“Those two are disasters in there,” Bellamy says after a moment. “I would have fired them during their first week, if they weren’t family.”

Clarke nods, but there’s a shadow in her eyes.

“Family can be complicated.”

It’s not what he expects her to say. She has never seemed bitter about anything. Annoyed or angry? Sure. Just not bitter.

“Is that why you won’t be able to sleep for the next 12 hours?”

He knows from the lift of her brows that he is prying. It’s a Blake trait, he likes to say, this curiosity that goes beyond social limitations, but this is not a time for smartass comments. When he doesn’t back down, Clarke gives another nod.

“It’s the anniversary of my father’s death,” she finally explains. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him, so I just…”

“You just don’t close your eyes.” Bellamy lets his gaze soften as he looks at her, glad that she won’t meet his eyes. “Well, we should give you something else to see, then,” he says in his best uninterested tone. He is just trying to mimic Octavia, because the girl is a champ at feigning indifference. “I think one of those hideous abstract painters has an exhibition here.”

Clarke smiles tightly, but she leans onto him when he puts an arm around her shoulders.

“So you’re one of those guys?” She exhales loudly, jokingly annoyed. “You think that art has to _tell_ you something.”

He huffs out an objection.

“Oh, you can’t be serious that you actually like those things. They are splashes of color! I have a bunch from when O was five.” He gestures with his free hand, ignoring the affronted look on her face. “I want my art to be part of a moment in history, of an ideal or a sentiment. The lack of context drives me crazy.”

“Art should make you feel and think, it’s not about context!” she snaps back, before catching herself. Then, she narrows her eyes at him, and Bellamy can’t keep the smile that tugs at his lips. She shakes her head, looking unwillingly pleased. “Yeah, shut up.”

They fight their whole way through the exhibition, and Clarke grins around her goodbye when he drops her off at her apartment.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Clarke complains as she stares out into the pouring rain, eyebrows drawn into a disappointed frown.

Bellamy pretends not to hear her and continues to rearrange the seats, so he can sweep the floor.

In the past months, they have gone from outright fighting to mere bickering, but it’s still strange to be alone with her. Every time he looks at Clarke, he still sees that defiant blonde girl who likes to meddle into other people’s business.

Octavia says that they are too similar sometimes, in their stubbornness and in their protectiveness over others, and she thinks that’s why they don’t always get along.

He thinks Octavia needs to shut up.

Outside, the street is slowly filling with water. The inch of an hour ago has grown into three and now it would be impossible to get out without getting drenched. The sight of the flooded streets, the ripples in the water and the darkness of the sky, would be beautiful if it weren’t already terrifying.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” she repeats.

Clarke sounds so upset that Bellamy doesn’t even roll his eyes. Instead, he sets the last of the chairs on top of a table and sidles up to her.

“It could be worse, princess.” He knocks their shoulders together. “At least the shop is elevated. The water won’t go past the steps.”

“We’re stuck here for who knows how long!” she groans, gesturing towards the window. “How are you so calm?”

Bellamy shrugs as he moves away from her.

“It has happened before. We have food, pillows and some quilts in the back.” He goes into the kitchen, grabs the broom from behind the counter, as well as some of the supplies, then goes back to dump them over Clarke. “Octavia and I forced everyone to leave at least one change of clothes here, so we’re covered on that front too.”

Clarke purses her lips in a way that makes him think she is debating whether or not to be satisfied.

“I have somewhere to be.”

“Don’t we all?” He snickers as he sweeps, before glancing towards her. From over the mountain of fabric, she is frowning like a small child, and the look breaks through his annoyance. “Common, I’ll get the good stuff.” He puts the broom away. “I’m gonna need it if I have to stay here with you. Put that where it’s clean and sit down.”

Clarke doesn’t laugh, not exactly. She exhales through her nose, letting her lips twist up, and does what he says.

“Do you choose to be an ass all the time or is it just in your nature?”

Bellamy throws her a smirk over his shoulder, digging through the cabinets.

“I guess you just bring out the best in me,” he mocks.

He breaths out a whoop when his hand come into contact with a bottle, then pulls it to his lips and takes a big gulp.

Clarke shakes her head at him, but says nothing.

“Ok, if we’re going to stay here, you have to tell me why you did your hair like that,” he points out as he makes his way back, sitting down next to her on the quilt. “You had to know I wouldn’t let you live it down.”

She chuckles, raising a hand to her braid. A few strands of hair have fallen away, curling around her face, but the way it twists around her head like a crown looks as pretty as it did when she’d first stopped by.

She accepts the bottle and drinks before talking.

“Ugh, whisky!” She grimaces. “It’s not like I was planning to come here. I just couldn’t find Octavia anywhere.”

Bellamy takes another swig. “What did you want with O, anyway?”

When she stares airily at him for a moment, he starts to wonder if she is that much of a lightweight, but Clarke sighs and pulls the bottle from him.

“Ok, you have to promise not to laugh.” She shakes her finger in front of his nose, so Bellamy raises his eyebrow at her.

“You know I can’t do that.”

 “Ass,” she quips, rolling her eyes.

“Princess,” he fires back in the same tone.

Clarke laughs and they pass the bottle around for a moment.

“Fine.” She leans back onto her hands. “I was going to meet Finn. It’s our six-month anniversary.”

He nods, smirking.

“And the hair?”

“We met on my birthday, after chem class.” She waits for something, as if she expects him to understand, then continues when he clearly doesn’t. “Jasper had crashed the class, because he wanted to be there when Monty gave me the sash and the—”

“And the crown!” he completes as realization dawns on him. “Oh man, this is great. So he calls you princess too?”

“Yes.” She sighs. “Thank you for _that_ , by the way.”

He laughs, throwing his head back.

“Oh no, that was my pleasure, honestly.”

Clarke presses her lips together, trying to looks mad, but the alcohol is already taking effect. She seems to give up, deciding to slap him on the shoulder instead.

“It just means a lot, you know?” she mumbles, letting her head drop back. “Finn is the first person who I’ve loved like that since the whole thing with my dad, then Wells, then Lexa…”

When she trails off, Bellamy moves closer to the wall, eying her curiously. “You mean your father’s death?”

She snaps her gaze back to him, frowning.

“Oh God, sometimes I forget we aren’t actually friends,” she groans, bringing a hand to her face.

“Hey!” Bellamy protests. “It might be the whisky talking, but I think you can say we’re friends.”

“Fine.” She snickers, raising her finger to his face once again. “But then you’re telling me secret shit, because this alcohol-induced heart-to-heart goes both ways.”

He opens his arms, feigning innocence. “I’m an open book.”

Despite the somber look that has taken her expression, there is the smallest trace of a smile on Clarke’s lips.

“My dad died last year, because he was accused of treason.” She pauses, grimaces. “By my mother.”

Bellamy blinks twice, trying to process this with the image he has of Abigail Griffin from the birthday party that Octavia dragged him six months ago. He remembers that she looked polite enough, but that everything about the event had spelled out “trying too hard”.

This information feels like finding a puzzle piece.

“That’s heavy,” he acknowledges gruffly and Clarke nods.

“Your turn.”

He takes a second to think this through. It’s not something he likes to share with people, but he is also not ashamed of it, so whatever.

“My mother was a prostitute.” He stares at a point on the ceiling, but the absence of any exclamation makes him think that his sister already told her this. “That’s why I’m so protective of Octavia. When we were younger, she could never leave the house, because we didn’t want the neighborhood to know she existed, we were so afraid that my mother’s clients would find out. Nothing against the profession in itself, but it wasn’t what mom wanted. She did it for the money. The men were horrible to her and they would have thought Octavia was fair play, had they known she existed.”

“That’s heavy,” she mimics, earning a chuckle from him.

“Yeah.”

Clarke shifts besides him.

“Wells was my best friend. He died just before I came to college. For a long time, I thought he was the one who’d told people about my dad’s involvement on the cellphone surveillance leak. I had just found out the truth and he was coming to get away from his father when a drunk driver crashed into him.”

As he looks at her, he tries not to mirror her pained expression, but probably fails. Late night drunken confessions always seem to end up like this. Sad.

“Your life is a fucking Greek tragedy,” he states to lighten up the mood.

She inhales deeply, turning her head to give him a small smile.

“Tell me about it.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m giving up on men,” she tells him one Sunday afternoon, when they are lying on his floor, watching Steven Universe. Clarke got him hooked, saying that she loves the animation, but Bellamy spent his Friday watching her cry over the videos they released during Comic Con, so he’s not really buying her bluff.

“Well, you are bisexual, so at least you won’t die alone,” he replies without taking his eyes off the screen. “Is this because of Finn again? I already told you I would kick his ass if you wanted me to.”

Clarke sighs, shifting her legs over his so she is able to kick his shin.

“It is about that, but not like you think.” She pauses, and he knows that means she’s trying to explain it to herself. “Finn was an idiot, but he wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. He thought Raven had died in that explosion. NASA thought she was dead. It’s not his fault that they mistook faulty communications with complete destruction.”

Bellamy shifts his eyes to her. He can see in the creases of her forehead that Clarke recognizes these are just excuses.

“He could have waited more than ten days.”

It is a repeat of what Raven had told them three weeks earlier, when she’d marched into the coffee shop with a scowl on her face.

Clarke sits up slowly, pushing herself closer to him.

“Yeah.” She pouts. “Men are stupid. Why didn’t I just invest on Octavia?”

Bellamy snorts.

“Because she’s with Lincoln and trying to hide it from me, I guess,” he says, still laughing.

She smiles at him and moves to lie down on his shoulder.

“So you know about that.” He can feel her nodding. “I was wondering if we would have to torture it out of Lincoln or something.”

“I’ve known since I first saw the guy. I hated it, of course, but he’s better than the punks she initially dated. After mom died and we moved, O took her newfound freedom and almost drove me into an early grave with it.”

Clarke starts laughing, and Bellamy has to hook an arm around her waist to keep her from rolling off him.

“I’m serious. She dated bikers and drug dealers or something. Lincoln looks like a fucking menace, but the guy is a teddy bear for her.”

“Lincoln is a teddy bear with everyone.” She nuzzles his neck, tickling him. “Forget what I said, he gives me hope in men. I’ll ask if he has a brother.”

Bellamy scrunches up his nose.

“His family is terrifying. I don’t think you’ve met Anya, so you wouldn’t know. I swear that woman takes away a year of my life every time she looks at me.” He huffs. “Octavia loves her.”

Clarke hums in agreement. “She is going to marry Lincoln and they will make the scariest couple on Earth.”

He chuckles.

“Also, they are going to create a baking empire, with his family’s factory and her coffee shop.”

The blonde struggles to look at him, forcing Bellamy to sit up a bit.

“You mean Miller’s coffee shop,” she corrects him, already suspicious.

He shakes his head.

“No, I mean _her_ coffee shop.”

He watches as Clarke turns fully to study his expression, eyes growing wide.

“Bellamy, do you mean…”

He smiles, ducking his head down.

“I saved money for years so she could go to college, but now she’s half-way through with a full ride and, I don’t know, she loves that place. She’s going to be a great business shark. I just wanted to give her that first push.”

When he glances back at her, Clarke is beaming. Her blue eyes glint strangely in the fluorescent lights of his living room. She looks so happy it makes his chest hurt with satisfaction.

“I can’t believe you would do that!” she says and, yep, she sounds like she’s about to cry. “How will I be able to keep that secret?”

She hits him on the shoulder.

Bellamy smiles and then keeps smiling. He looks at this girl about whom he once had so many misconceptions, he looks at the rosiness of her cheeks, at the way her hair looks askew from laying on his floor all day and he just — he just loves her so much.

Clarke continues to grumble about Octavia, asking if she can at least tell Monty or Raven, but he lets her talk, lets the words form circles around them with her excitement.

“You tell anyone and I’ll go to that girl from intro to neuroscience and say that you’re into her.”

She gasps, before giving him an impressed look.

“You drive a hard bargain, Blake.”

She settles back down onto his shoulder, but all that Bellamy can think as Clarke starts another episode is how screwed he is.

 

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly, it really starts with the smiles they try to fight off when Clarke stands on the tip of her toes, leans over the counter and kisses him.

It’s a slow morning, because finals have just ended and Christmas is just around the corner. None of them is especially religious, but they do love the holiday.

“Well, I’m not going home, that’s for sure,” Raven scoffs. When she shakes her head, her ponytail swings from side to side, and Bellamy has to cough to disguise his laughter at how enamored Wick seems by it.

When he thinks back to a year ago, he almost can’t believe that these people are in his life.

Octavia brought Jasper, who brought Monty, who brought Clarke, who brought Raven, who brought Wick. It’s the world’s stupidest chain and greatest mystery that they have managed not to kill each other yet.

“Have you talked to Finn since everything?” Monty asks in such an affectionate tone that Bellamy has to turn to share a smile with Miller.

“I have, and we’re good, or as good as we can be,” she waves a hand in the air, sharp as ever. “But this is supposed to be a time to spend with family, isn’t it?”

Octavia rolls her eyes and Lincoln smiles softly, having both looked at Bellamy at the woman’s statement. They all know that this is Raven’s way of asking to come over, in her unnecessarily convoluted way.

“Reyes, I’ve already bought the damn apples to make your pie.” He fixes her with narrowed eyes. “I’m not giving out written invitations, if that’s what you’re getting at. That’s for all of you, too.”

Ravem shoots him a sardonic smile.

“Oh, Blake, I didn’t know you cared.”

Jasper is in the kitchen, wrapping the scraps so they can drop them off in the homeless shelter on their way home, but he still feels the need to chime in.

“What did I say?” he calls through the window. “He’s a big softie!”

Bellamy, who is still behind the counter, throws a rag at his face.

“He is right, you know?” Clarke asks, getting up from the table where the others are seated. “Who would have thought, after the way we met?”

She laughs, but Bellamy can see the way their friends look at him, with obnoxious smiles and knowing glances. He glares at them over Clarke’s head, trying to silently force them to cut it out.

And then, well, then Octavia scoffs.

“Oh please,” she exclaims, “Bell only disliked you so much because he was trying to overcompensate.” She taps Monty’s arms, quirking an eyebrow at the boy. “Did he or did he not talk about her for three days straight after that?”

Monty — sweet-tempered, actually supper blunt Monty — gives an unimpressed yes just as Jasper yells his agreement. Even Miller nods, throwing an arm around his boyfriend as Bellamy’s glare intensifies.

Clarke, in the middle of it all, simply looks at him with calculating blue eyes.

When he doesn’t deny it — turning into a blubbering mess, instead —, she stands on her tiptoes, leans over the counter and kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really love these characters.  
> Octavia is studying business, because I wanted to translate her adaptability to our world and I just really want to imagine her making men cry over her hostile takeovers.  
> Title from Unpack your heart, by Phillip Phillips.


End file.
